


the point of no return

by arysa13



Series: Bridgerton Kink Meme 2021 [3]
Category: Bridgerton (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Cheating, Dirty Talk, F/M, Incest, Jealousy, Nude Photos, Possessive Behavior, Sibling Incest, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-16 12:22:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29576055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arysa13/pseuds/arysa13
Summary: When Daphne's nudes get leaked, Anthony promptly handles the situation. He also saves the pictures for himself.
Relationships: Anthony Bridgerton/Daphne Bridgerton
Series: Bridgerton Kink Meme 2021 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2172636
Comments: 14
Kudos: 67
Collections: Bridgerton Kinkmeme - Issue 01 - 2021





	the point of no return

The whole situation had been awful. Friedrich had told Daphne he bore her no ill feelings despite the fact that she’d dumped him for another man, and she’d believed him. And then three days later, the pictures she’d sent him while they were together were plastered all over her university gossip Facebook page for all to see. And then, to top it all off, Simon called her a slut and dumped her.

Anthony had fixed it, of course. As humiliating as it was to have to go to him, ashamed, distraught, she knew he was the only one who could help her. He’d do anything for her, and had the power to do what needed to be done.

What he actually did, Daphne doesn’t know, but within hours the pictures were gone, Friedrich was expelled from the university, despite his aunt’s sizeable donations over the years, and Simon had a black eye. The Facebook page had moved on to the next topic of gossip—the fact that Cressida Cowper was on academic probation for plagiarising her ethics essay.

Despite Anthony’s swift and efficient intervention, and his surprising empathy when she’d collapsed into his arms, sobbing, telling him the whole story, it doesn’t stop her burning shame, or the heartache she feels at losing Simon.

Anthony lets her hide out at his place until she’s feeling ready to face the world again. She tells her professors she’s sick so she doesn’t have to go to class, and Anthony, mercifully, doesn’t tell the rest of their family what happened. It’s bad enough that he knows. And that he probably saw the pictures. She didn’t ask him, but she’s sure he must have.

God, how humiliating. The photos were far from tasteful. They’ve been awkward around each other these past few days, and though she’s grateful for what he did, she doesn’t feel as at ease in his presence as she once did. Like there’s something between them that wasn’t there before, something unspoken. It can only be that they both feel embarrassed about the fact that he’s seen her dirty pictures. She burns all over at the thought of it.

There’s a soft tap on the bedroom door, the spare one she’s using for the foreseeable future. She really doesn’t know how she’s ever going to show her face at school again.

“Daph?” Anthony calls. He’s been home for a while—she heard him get in an hour and a half ago, and it’s a credit to him that he didn’t immediately rush to check on her.

“Yeah?” she calls back. Is this the part where he finally gives her the brotherly talking to, warning her not to take naked photos of herself, or send said photos to untrustworthy men? She knows the lecture is coming. He’s been far too lenient on her so far, and though he’d comforted her when she first told him, she could tell he was livid.

“You want to come and help me cook dinner? Siena sent me a recipe she says I should try.”

Daphne scowls at the mention of her brother’s girlfriend’s name. She hates Siena, though she’s always been unable to actually articulate _why_. Eloise calls it internalised misogyny. Daphne thinks her sister should mind her own business.

“Since when do you know how to cook?” Daphne calls back. She’s not going to be very much help either—she hasn’t the faintest idea how to even boil water.

“Since Siena told me she can’t date a man who doesn’t know how to cook,” Anthony calls back.

Daphne scowl gets even deeper. Since when does Anthony change his habits to please a woman? Her brother used to be such a player, and now he’s so fucking whipped for Siena it’s disgusting. She’s just some stupid C grade actress who isn’t even that pretty.

“Fine,” she sighs. If she doesn’t, she’ll only mope in her room, dwelling on her utter humiliation. Two days is not enough to stop her cringing and curling in on herself every time she thinks about it.

She drags herself off her bed, smoothing the creases out of her little floral dress as she pads across the room. She opens the door, almost running into her brother, standing far too close to the door. He’s leaning on the doorframe, in his work suit, sans tie and jacket, towering over her, dark hair falling across the lines of concern creasing his forehead.

Daphne steps back, feeling oddly off balance. His shirt is unbuttoned, and she can see his dark chest hair tufting out from the V the neckline makes. Her eyes catch there, captivated for a moment, before she tears her eyes away to meet his. He stares at her for too long, and Daphne is sure he must be pitying her, or judging her, under his veil of brotherly concern.

She clears her throat, going pink in the cheeks at his prolonged gaze. “Shall we?”

He nods, then turns abruptly to lead the way to his massive kitchen, which she’s sure he’s barely used in his life. He has a cook, usually, but obviously he’s dismissed her for the night.

He has all the ingredients laid out on the bench top, even going to far as to put the correct measurements of everything in little bowls the way they do in cooking videos. Daphne watches from a stool on the other side of the counter as he rolls up his sleeves to his elbows, revealing his thick forearms. Something tightens in her belly, and she hastily looks away, feeling strange, like she shouldn’t be looking, like she’s caught him doing something erotic, something his sister shouldn’t see.

Which is _ridiculous_. He’s just rolling up his sleeves for god’s sake. It’s not like she’s seen his nudes. The way he’s probably seen hers. God, if she could just stop _thinking_ about it.

He turns the tap on, pumping soap onto his hands. “Did you have a good day?” he asks her.

“It was okay,” Daphne says. “I just did my coursework mainly.”

“And—are you—okay?” he asks, rubbing his hands under the running water. “I mean—about—what happened. With Friedrich. And Simon.”

Daphne shrugs. “I still feel like an absolute fool,” she whispers. “I should never have—”

“No,” Anthony injects, shutting off the water. He dries his hands on a tea towel and then whips it over his shoulder. Perhaps Siena is onto something about men in the kitchen. “You did nothing wrong,” he assures her.

Daphne feels a rush of affection for him, choking up at his fierce conviction. She hadn’t realised quite how much she needed to hear him say that.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” she asks, trying to hide how affected she is.

“I’m always nice.” Daphne gives him a pointed look, and he tilts his head in concession.

“Why aren’t you mad at me for what I did? It was stupid, I should know better, I—”

“Daph,” he says firmly. “As disgusted as it makes me feel that anyone has seen you naked—what happened to you isn’t your fault. You sent pictures to someone you trusted, and he betrayed that trust. He’s a vile, horrible little man, and I’d like to kick his teeth in. Unfortunately, that would likely end up with me arrested due to his aunt’s influence, so I had to make do with getting him expelled.”

“Simon, on the other hand—” Daphne says, smirking slightly.

“It was one punch,” Anthony shrugs.

“One very good punch.”

“He hurt you,” Anthony says, as if that explains everything. And maybe it does. He claps his hands together. “Now—shall we get started?”

Daphne nods. She feels a little lighter now. Anthony doesn’t blame her. He’s not judging her. That makes one person in the whole world.

“What do you want me to do?” she asks.

He hands her his phone, unlocking it as he goes. “Why don’t you get the recipe up and read the instructions to me? I’m not sure this kitchen can handle two inept Bridgertons trying to cook in here.”

Daphne smiles, glad whatever weird tension was there between them is gone. They can joke together again. Everything is fine.

She reads out the instructions to him, and they chat in between, although they get so distracted a few times that they mess up a couple of the steps. Anthony is sure it will be fine. He assures her that the recipe is just a guideline, and Daphne has to ignore the sour taste in her mouth when he adds that that’s something Siena told him.

His phone pings with a notification halfway through the recipe, a message from Benedict popping up on the screen.

“Benedict wants to know if you and Siena want to join him and Genevieve at the ballet tomorrow night,” Daphne says, looking up from the phone.

“Tell him I couldn’t think of anything worse than a double date with him and Genevieve,” Anthony scoffs.

Daphne snorts and unladylike laugh, then goes to exit the app with recipe, Anthony’s other open apps coming up behind it. She freezes, breath catching, stomach lurching sickeningly when she sees his photo app open, and what is, unmistakably, one of the very photos she’d sent to Friedrich, that had ended up on her university gossip page.

Heart thudding, she opens the photo properly, and there she is, in all her glory, completely naked, her legs spread open, her breasts arched towards the camera.

She looks good in the photos, she knows that. Undeniably sexy. She’d set up her phone on a tripod, got the lighting just right, done a little photoshoot on her bed with the self-timer. And now, here they are, inexplicably on Anthony’s phone.

She flips through the photos, each lewder than the next. From behind, on her hands and knees. On her belly, a pillow between her legs. And the worst one, on her back, her mouth open, her fingers in her pussy. And they’re on her _brother’s_ phone.

“Anthony,” she says, his name a shaky whisper. He looks up from the stove, blissfully unaware of her discovery. “What the fuck do you have my pictures on your phone?”

Anthony’s face falls, looking stricken. He drops the wooden spoon he’s holding, and lunges for his phone, ripping it out of her hand, but the damage is done now.

“Fuck,” he groans. “Fuck. Fuck. Daph—I—” he looks at her helplessly, words dying on his tongue, unable to come up with any explanation at all.

Daphne feels sick, betrayed, tears filling her eyes. She can think of only one reason why her brother of all people would have kept these.

“I thought you were on my side,” she says, her voice shaking. “I thought you were trying to protect me.”

“I was, I am,” he says, frantic. “Daphne,” he pleads.

“Then tell me you weren’t saving these so you could threaten me with them at another time,” she accuses. “Keep me in line. Control me like you could when I was a child.”

“Of course not,” Anthony growls. “Believe me, I’m very aware of the fact that you’re not a child anymore. I’m not trying to control you. I know better than that by now.”

“I don’t believe you,” Daphne hisses. “Why else would you have them?”

Anthony groans again, rubbing a hand over his face. “Daphne, please, can we just—”

“Tell me!” she demands. “I think I deserve to know why my brother has naked photos of me on his phone.”

“God, Daphne, why does any man have photos of naked women on his phone?” he shouts. His face is bright red, from embarrassment, or anger, or both.

Daphne stares at him, dumbfounded. He can’t look at her.

“What? I don’t—” her stomach flutters. Something pulses hideously between her legs. “You—you—” she swallows thickly, cheeks warm as she considers the implication of his words.

He finally looks at her, his eyes dark and wild and savage. “That’s right,” he says through gritted teeth. “I have them because it turns me on to look at them.”

His tone is vicious, but Daphne knows it’s just a defence mechanism. She can hear the bitter guilt behind his words.

_It turns me on to look at them. It turns me on to look at them._

At _her_. At her naked body, his sister’s naked body, provocative, obscene. Like he’s just a man, and she’s just a woman he’s attracted to, not his little sister.

“Daphne,” he whispers. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have said that I—I’ll delete the photos right away. I never should have kept them. I just, I—I couldn’t help myself,” he admits. “You looked—” he cuts himself off, as if suddenly realising he should really just stop talking.

The confession should make her hate him, make her skin crawl, make her feel violated, betrayed. He’s supposed to be her big brother, supposed to look after her, not lust after her, get himself off to her pornographic pictures.

But that’s not what she feels. She’s not entirely sure _what_ she feels. Embarrassed, definitely. That he’s seen her like that, looked at her pictures, got hard thinking about her. And recently, probably this evening, since the photos were still open on his phone.

But she also feels…hot. There’s a dull thudding between her legs, a funny, stirred-up feeling in her stomach. And she’s not stupid, she knows what arousal feels like. But she finds it hard to equate the lust she felt for Simon or Friedrich with—with what she’s feeling now, for her brother. Knowing that he’s attracted to her, despite the taboo.

Images flash to the forefront of her mind, of him, in his bed, hand wrapped around his cock, thinking of her. It’s sick, she knows it’s sick, unthinkable, repulsive. But then she’s there with him, replacing his hand with her mouth, and the thought leaves her breathless.

She can feel arousal leak from her cunt into her panties. God. Fuck. Is she actually turned on by her own brother? Is that why she’s felt so weird around him lately? Why she hates Siena so much? Why, now the thoughts in her head, she can’t stop thinking about his cock?

She swallows, slowly meeting his eye, her cheeks and chest blazing with heat. Curse her stupid complexion for never allowing her to hide her emotions.

“Say something,” Anthony chokes out.

“I—” she starts. “I probably shouldn’t stay here anymore.”

Hurt crosses his face, though it must come as no surprise. How can she stay here, knowing what she knows? And it’s not that she’s scared of him, or worried he’s going to try to make a move on her, or even grossed out by his behaviour.

But with her muddled emotions, her shocking revelation, and her currently wandering thoughts, it’s probably best if she isn’t in close quarters with him. In fact, with his sleeves all rolled up like that, and his shirt unbuttoned one too many buttons, putting dirty thoughts in her head, she thinks she should probably leave right this moment.

“I’m leaving,” she declares. “Right now.”

She turns, and starts striding towards her bedroom.

“Daphne,” Anthony calls out after her. “Please—you don’t have to go tonight. I’m not going to—to do anything to you.”

Her stomach lurches—pleasantly—at the thought of him _doing things_ to her. She really has to get out of here, now.

She hears his footsteps behind her, following her through the massive, open living room of his penthouse apartment, and her heart speeds up. She stops, knowing she can’t be alone with him in her bedroom, not now. Not until she gets her thoughts in order, until they have some distance, until they can forget this ever happened.

She turns to face him as he reaches her.

“At least let me drive you somewhere,” he says helplessly.

Alone with him in a dark car, his hand on the stick shift, inches from her thigh? Even worse. “No,” she says, her voice coming out all squeaky.

“Daph,” he pleads. “You have to know I never—I never wanted to feel like this. To have these thoughts about you. I never would’ve acted on it. I just—I saw the pictures and I stopped thinking sanely.”

She’s not really listening. She’s just watching his lips, wondering what they would feel like on hers.

“I feel sick,” he croaks out. “Everyday I feel sick to my stomach that I could ever think of you that way, and yet I can’t stop. It’s awful. It’s so fucked up. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry—”

“Anthony,” Daphne breathes, reaching for him, cutting him off as she fists her hands in his soft white shirt, pulling his mouth to hers.

He moans into her mouth, his breath hitching in surprise. And despite all his recent declarations, he kisses her back, no hesitation. He has her pressed against the wall behind her in seconds, his body moulded to hers, his hands bunched in her dress. He takes control of the kiss, invading her mouth with his tongue, dominating her.

Her arms wrap around his neck, her fingers tangling in his hair, trying to pull him closer, though he’s already pressed against her in every place possible. She feels her cunt throb when she realises he’s hard, pressing into her stomach through his slacks and the thin material of her dress.

“Daphne,” he moans, already wrecked. His kiss is less insistent now, and he explores her mouth with his tongue, teasing, languid. God, he fucking knows how to kiss. She shouldn’t know that about him, but now she does, and she has no one to blame but herself. She wonders what that tongue would feel like between her legs, and she feels a rush of arousal at the thought of it.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” Anthony murmurs, but he doesn’t really pull away. He stops kissing her, but he keeps her trapped against the wall with his body, keeps his face so close she can still feel his breath on her lips.

“No,” Daphne agrees.

“Fuck,” Anthony groans. He kisses her again, just once, softly, like he can’t seem to help himself. Daphne squirms against him. Her knickers are soaked, and her pussy aches. She knows what she wants, is desperate for it. But they can’t. They can’t.

That they kissed each other like _that_ is bad enough. That they admitted to wanting each other. Imagine if their family found out. Imagine if _anyone_ found out. That she made out with her brother, and that she enjoyed it. That she wants to do it again. That she wants him to touch her, fuck her.

“Oh, god,” Daphne whimpers. “This is so fucked up.”

Anthony hums in agreement, but he still doesn’t let her go. It seems both of them are waiting for the other to make the first move. To either stop this before it goes way too far, or to continue past the point of no return.

And they should stop, they should absolutely stop. That’s the undeniable, unequivocal truth. There is no explanation, no justification, no circumstance that would make this okay. And yet the pull of him is too strong. Her need for him seems to outweigh the utter wrongness of the situation. Or perhaps the wrongness of the situation only makes her want it more.

“Anthony,” she breathes. “What were you thinking? When you were looking at the pictures?”

“I really don’t think I should tell you that.”

“Did you think I looked pretty?”

He scoffs. “Pretty is not the word I would use,” he says. “Sexy. Utterly ravishing. All I could think about was putting my mouth on you. My fingers in your cunt. My cock.”

Daphne whimpers, and Anthony groans.

“What about Siena?” Daphne asks. As if the fact that he already has a girlfriend is the worst part about his confession.

“Siena doesn’t get me hard like you do,” he growls. “Siena doesn’t have me grinding against my mattress in the middle of the night, doesn’t occupy my thoughts constantly, force me to have a wank in the bathrooms at work multiple times a day, doesn’t drive me to distraction, the way you do.”

She gasps, his words making her cunt clench around nothing. “I need you,” she whispers.

“We can’t,” he says. But he wants to. “I can’t do that to you. You’re my little sister, I can’t.”

He doesn’t stop her, though, when she presses her lips against his again. He follows her lead as she teases his mouth open, and he can’t seem to help himself, he kisses her back, hungry all over again.

He lets her unbutton his shirt with shaky hands, shrugs it off as she pushes it from his shoulders, untucks it from his pants. She presses her mouth to his throat, hears his breath stutter, then kisses her way down his chest, her fingers fumbling with his belt.

“Fuck, Daphne,” he moans. She’s barely touching him, but he sounds completely ruined. It thrills her.

She gets his pants undone, but when she tries to slide her hand into his underwear, he grabs her wrist, stopping her.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asks, eyes blazing. “Touch your brother’s cock? Take it inside you?”

Daphne opens and closes her mouth, her chest rising and falling dramatically. She nods, unable to form any actual words.

“I need you to be sure,” he growls. “Once we do this, there’s no going back. You’ll never be able to forget that you let your brother fuck you.”

Doesn’t he know that his tone, his words, only turn her on more? That the fucked up thought of having her brother fuck her makes her so fucking horny she can’t think straight?

“I’m sure,” she says.

That’s all the encouragement he needs, and then his mouth is on hers, messy and forceful. His hands slip around behind her to unzip her dress, and pulls it from her body, letting it flutter to the floor around her ankles.

“It drives me mad that anyone else has seen you like this,” Anthony groans. “That so many people saw those pictures. I want you to be mine. Only mine.”

He leans down to kiss her neck, then down towards her breasts, deftly unclipping her bra as he does so. Daphne feels shy all of a sudden, as he pulls her bra away to look upon her breasts. Some moral part of her brain reminds her it’s completely wicked for him to be seeing her like this, to be touching her like this. And then there are her own insecurities, that she’s not quite as voluptuous as Siena.

“You’re even more beautiful in real life,” he breathes, and she’s reminded that he’s seen her tits before, and that’s why they’re in this mess in the first place. She thrills at his words. He thinks she’s beautiful.

He kisses her breasts, gently, his hands graciously resting on her hips for the moment. She arches towards him, and he sucks her nipple into his mouth, then takes her in further, as if trying to fit her whole breast in his mouth. He moves a hand to her other breast, cupping her, covering her easily with his big hand, caressing her left breast while he sucks on the right one.

Daphne moans, clutching his head to her body. His other hand strokes her belly, never dipping lower than her panty line, yet building the anticipation until she’s trembling with need, desperate for him to touch her there. She squeezes her thighs together, trying to ease the pressure, but it’s no use.

And then, finally, his fingers dip lower, until his index finger is pressed to the top of her slit through her underwear, and she’s gasping, her head swimming, and she doesn’t know if it’s from his touch, or just from the sheer thought of her brother touching her pussy.

His fingers slide lower, and then he’s making little circles over the massive wet spot in her underwear. She tilts her hips towards him, her cunt desperate for something inside it. But then he pulls away entirely, leaving her unsatisfied and wanting.

He shucks his pants, and then he’s picking her up, putting her over his shoulder like she weighs nothing. She shrieks in delight, and he carries her towards his bedroom, his fingers playing with her pussy through her knickers as he goes, making her squirm and writhe in his arms so much she feels like he might drop her.

He doesn’t though, until he puts her down on his massive king bed, in his chic, masculine room. He looks down at her, eyes heavy with lust. Her stomach flips over. God, she’s in her brother’s bed in nothing but a pair of knickers. And she’s going to let him fuck her. She must have lost her mind.

Anthony toys with the waistband of his boxer briefs, and Daphne’s eyes drop to his crotch, admiring the sizeable bulge. She swallows, transfixed, as he edges his underwear down, revealing his cock.

It springs up against his stomach, hard and huge and bulging. His balls are big too, everything about him is big. She rubs her thighs together almost subconsciously. She wants to lick him.

Before she can act on her urge, he’s crawling onto the bed on top of her, forcing her to lie back. He strokes her hair away from her face gently, tenderly, before kissing her deeply. With his other hand, he spreads her thighs, and then he’s pressing his hard cock against her hot, wet centre, her underwear the only thing separating them now.

“Tell me you’re on birth control,” he groans. “I want to come inside you so badly. I want to feel every part of you.”

Daphne nods eagerly. She wants to take him raw, bare, feel him spurt inside her when he comes. She grinds her hips against him, and he rocks back against her, humping her mound.

“Fuck me,” she whispers. “Please, Anthony, fuck me. Put your big cock in your little sister’s pussy.”

“Fucking hell,” he moans. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

He tugs at her panties, dragging them down her thighs, slipping them off her ankles and tossing them aside. Her dirty panties on her brother’s bedroom floor. She gets a sick thrill at the thought of it.

But that’s nothing compared to the overwhelming sense of lustful wickedness she feels when he puts the thick head of his cock against her entrance.

She whimpers as he pushes in, claiming her with his cock, putting his mouth over hers at the same time. She has her brother’s cock inside her. She has her brother’s cock inside her. And it feels fucking amazing.

“Oh my god, Anthony,” she moans. “Yes. Fuck me. Fuck me.”

He covers her body with his, thrusting rhythmically, vigorously, owning her body. Like he’s been saving this for her, like he wants to show her she belongs to him, make her forget she was ever with anyone else.

He grunts with exertion, moans her name, and Daphne loses herself in him, in the feeling of him pounding into her, winding her up, driving her closer to release. He drops a hand between them to rub her clit, and she spirals further, a tight coil taut in her lower belly.

“Come on, darling,” he pants. “Come for me. Come on your brother’s cock, you dirty little thing.”

Daphne cries out, his words sending her over the edge. If they ever do this again, she’s going to need to hear more of that, of his filthy mouth telling her dirty things.

“I’m going to come inside you,” he tells her, talking her through her orgasm as she tightens around him, writhes beneath him, pleasure wracking her body. “Fill you up. You’re mine, do you understand? Only mine. I can’t bear for another man to touch you again.”

Daphne manages to nod, though she’s still feeling the effects of her orgasm. He’s always been protective of her to a fault, but this primitive possessiveness is something new. Something thrilling. He doesn’t want her to fuck anyone else. Which means he intends for him to be the only one to touch her like this, means to do it again and again and again.

He groans as he comes, filling her with his thick seed just as he promised, his hips against her pelvis. She feels dirty, wicked, satisfied.

He keeps his cock inside her as he kisses her, and she’s glad. She’s not ready to have him pull out of her yet. She’s not sure how it is that it feels so right to have her brother’s cock lodged inside her, keeping his come in her pussy.

Eventually though, he does slip out, and rolls to the bed beside her.

“Fuck,” he groans. “Did I really just fuck my sister?”

“Yes,” Daphne says cheekily. “And you enjoyed every second of it.”

He looks at her. “As did you,” he says, but he’s waiting for her confirmation.

“Yes,” she agrees, and even after everything they just did, it makes her blush. He rolls onto his side, traces patterns on her bare stomach. “Will you break up with Siena?”

“If you want me to,” he says simply.

“And we can keep—” she trails off, biting her lip, knowing he’ll understand what she means.

“For as long as you want to,” he says hoarsely. “And as long as no one finds out.”

God, of course not. Imagine if their mother, their other siblings, ever found out what they’ve done. She thinks Anthony would bear most of the blame, and he’d probably happily take it for her.

Then she imagines if anyone _outside_ their family found out, and that seems even worse. If someone posted it on the gossip page— _Daphne Bridgerton is a brother-fucker._ There would be no coming back from _that_. Naked pictures are one thing, but incest accusations are damning on another level. Especially when they’re true.


End file.
